


air

by bloom_bloom



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Gen, Heavy Angst, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, attempted self-harm by blade, comfort at end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloom_bloom/pseuds/bloom_bloom
Summary: changbin is struggling with how he looks.he might not be making the healthiest choices.//please read tags for tw





	air

**Author's Note:**

> this is a pretty heavy fic  
please don't read this if it will affect your mental or physical health  
please read the tags for tw
> 
> //  
woo another vent fic that got too heavy  
i hope that you can still enjoy this heavy fic  
please leave a comment if you feel any other warnings are needed or just on what you think about this in general

Changbin was so close to punching the mirror. He swears that he was skinnier last night. If only he just went to bed instead of shoving all that shit in his mouth out of stress. Now he was standing in front of the full-length mirror freaking out. They had a weigh-in tomorrow and there was no way he would be fine looking like this. It was more for him than anything else. If only he was skinny and pretty he would feel ok.

But now he was stuck with a bloated belly and a big nose that people loved to poke fun at. He knew he wasn’t the visual but it would be really nice if people didn’t point that out on the few days he felt good about himself. It hurt him, even though he would laugh it off, it hurt. It made him come home and look in the mirror. Poke under his jaw, pull at his belly, squish his cheeks, feel all the fat on him. He could lose that weight if he didn’t eat for a while if he constricted his diet to the bare minimum. But he couldn’t make his nose smaller, enlarge his eyes to make his face look even. 

He always knew that this would be hard. Food was the one thing that really comforted him. When he was bored, sad, depressed, or anxious, food would make him feel better. It was there to taste good and warm his belly. He had food, not a person, food.

There’s always someone else who would need comfort in the group and he wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. He didn’t want to be selfish and take away attention that needed to be on other people. His problems didn’t need attention, he could handle them himself even if it wasn’t in a healthy way. 

He hated saying that they were right. All the people in the videos saying it was for patients to feel in control of something. They were right, he couldn’t be in control of other's feelings or problems, make them all alright. But he could be in control of what he consumed. If he hated how he looked he could just restrict his diet. If he felt guilty without knowing why he could punish himself. 

It started when his parents would fight. The yelling made him feel guilty. It made him feel like he could’ve done something and none of the yelling would happen. This started the guilt that he would punish himself for. He deserved it, right? Now whenever someone got yelled at in school he would feel guilty. Whenever his members fought he would feel guilty. He didn’t want to blame his parents for this, he should’ve found a healthier way to cope. He should’ve found someone he could talk to. 

But he was still stuck in front of the mirror with his shirt under his chin and poking at his belly. He would watch as he sucked in to see how skinny he could get. He liked how it looked when he sucked in, flat, not round. 

It took a knock on the bathroom door to let him escape this self-deprecating trance.

“Are you almost done in there?”

“Yeah, I'll come out in a minute. I knocked over the shampoo and it spilled.”

“Ok just run out and get another one.”

There it was, his escape. If he ran to the corner store and back he could burn more calories before the weigh-in. If he was lucky enough Chan would even let him go to that practice room if he made up a good lie. 

He would eat just enough to not lose his hair or dry out his skin. He would exercise instead of starving as often as he could. It was just on the days that he would be too tired to exercise or the day after binging all night. He was trying his best to be as healthy as he could, but it was hard when he felt guilty or gross. He would do his best to tell himself that this wasn’t an everyday thing. That this was ok as long as he ate a couple of days a week. It didn’t feel like he was lying to himself, he was ok, this wasn’t really bad, he could be so much worse. He wasn’t that bad. It was just a couple of days a week. He was ok. He was ok. He was ok. He wasn’t lying, right. 

Oh god, he just wished someone noticed how tiring this was. How cold and exhausted he was. He wasn’t losing that much weight. It was probably because he wasn’t starving more days a week. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He told himself that he wouldn’t fall deeper into this hole. His mental state would literally crumble if this got any worse. JUST FUCKING NOTICE ALREADY. 

He was panicking, he was shaking he needed to stop. He needed to drop that fucking blade before it got to close to him. Why the hell did he bring a fucking blade with him in the bathroom? Was it to punish him for thinking about how tempting it was to fall deeper into the hole. If so he deserved it. He needed to snap out of this. Stop his blurred vision from his tears and shaking hands from how tempting it was to just fucking purge his lunch out of his stomach. Oh my god, he can’t take in enough oxygen from all this snot running out of his nose. He was choking on his sobs. Why is he breaking down, he just has to shut up drop the blade and walk out of the bathroom. That’s all he has to do so why is it so fucking hard? 

Oh no, why does he hear footsteps? 

“Go away, go away, go away, go away. Please go away. Just go away I’m fine. Please, I’m fine, I got this. I’m ok, you don’t have to come in here. It’s ok, everything is under control.”

“Changbin, please unlock the door. It’s ok, you’re not doing anything wrong. Just unlock the door for me ok?”

“No Hyunjin, I’m fine. Just don’t get the key. I’ll come out in a little bit just don’t get the key, ok? Please don’t get the key, just don’t get the key. Please don’t, you don’t have to use it. See I’m fine. I can talk, I’m fine. I just need to breathe for a second ok. Please, I’m fine.”

The jingle, It’s the jingle of the keys. Oh god, I hear it. 

“Please! Stop, just stop I’m fine! Go away! Go away, go away, go away, go away!”

Once the door opened he tried to hide the blade as fast as he could but it was too loud against the tiled floor.

“Binnie I need you to give that to me. Did you use it?”

“No...”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…”

“Ok, that’s good Binnie. You didn’t use it. You did a good job, Binnie. Now all you have to do is give it to me.”

“Ok.”

It didn’t take long for Changbin to crumble into Hyunjin’s arms after giving him the blade.

“You did such a good job. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hyunjin did his best to make sure Changbin didn’t blame himself for this. It wasn’t his fault, it was the voices. Changbin should never be blamed for this.  
He should be comforted and loved by the person who loves him the most. He should never have to heal from this on his own. Hyunjin would do anything to help him, and he made sure Changbin knew that. 

“You did such a good job, Binnie. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”


End file.
